


He Could Have Told Him

by gardensaladvibes



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardensaladvibes/pseuds/gardensaladvibes
Summary: It has been three weeks since Eddie's death and Richie is plagued by the regret of not telling him his true feelings. Laying in bed at night, he thinks back on all the times he could have said it, but didn't.- One-Shot with flashbacks -





	He Could Have Told Him

Would he ever recover?  
Could you recover from something like that? From seeing your worst fear up close and having to face it head on? It had been over three weeks now since he’d seen Eddie die, and the numbness didn’t seem to be ending any time soon, the messages from the rest of the group helping only a little. Still, Richie was getting through the days, slowly, slowly… It was the nights that made it unbearable. His apartment may have been empty before he’d left for Derry, but the relentless loneliness that met him when he returned was unlike anything he'd felt before.  
God, how many other times in his life could he have told him how he felt? Back when they were kids and spent almost every waking moment together, could he not have spared one minute to mention ‘Oh hey, you make my heart beat really fast and my insides turn to jelly’?  
He could have told him during their sleepover in summer ’89, when Eddie had his first nightmare about the bastard clown that had ruined their lives. He could remember them walking home together from the quarry, the sky burning orange fire as the sun slowly lowered over the horizon, Eddie’s voice blurting out how much he didn’t want to go home because his mom would _totally kill him_ for something or another.  
Richie was getting a little tired of hearing his voice.  
“Just stay at my house then.”  
Eddie’s rant abruptly stopped, dark eyes flickering as he seemed to consider the idea. Richie didn’t actually expect him to do it, not something as spontaneous as _going against his own mother_. The little mama’s boy didn’t have it in him.  
“I can’t. My mom said I have to be home in, like, ten minutes.”  
“Just call her from my house. Say you got sick or something.”  
“Oh, _right_.” Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically at the suggestion. “Do you even know my mom? If she hears I’m sick, I’ll be quarantined for the rest of summer, being fed… _soup_, and shit.”  
“God, grow a backbone, dickwad. You know what I say when my mom tells me what to do?”  
“Shut up, asshole. You don’t say anything.” Still, he paused as they reached the gate that led to Richie’s house. The lights were on inside, the promise of an evening away from his overbearing mother. What had started out as a joke had turned into a possibility, and Richie had decided that he’d never wanted anything so much in his life.  
Opening the gate, Richie headed towards the front door, turning his head over his shoulder when Eddie didn’t follow.  
“You coming or what?”  
Chewing on his lower lip, Eddie hesitated, hands balling into fists at his side.  
“Just- Just wait for me, alright? I’m gonna go home and pack some stuff.”  
“What’s the point of you staying at my house if you’re just gonna head home anyway? You can borrow pyjamas or whatever.”  
“And risk smelling like you? I’d rather sleep in the sewer.” Pause. “I need to get my pills. And-And I gotta tell my mom. I’ll come over later.”  
The time between Eddie heading home and finally arriving back at the Tozier household with an overnight bag seemed endless, leaving Richie with nothing to do but pace his bedroom, shoving odd stuff into drawers and under the bed. He’d set up a place for Eddie to sleep on the floor, a bed of cushions and pillows and blankets that looked like it’d be comfier than the actual bed. Then Eddie arrived, a grin spread across his face as Richie opened the door for him. Heart beating rapidly in his chest, Richie tried to suppress the giddiness he felt at the thought of spending a whole evening as just the two of them, playing video games and watching movies.  
It had been a good night, and Richie had fallen asleep pretty much instantly once they’d climbed into their beds. What he hadn’t anticipated was the screaming that woke him at 3 in the morning.  
“Eddie?”  
Panicking, Richie sat bolt upright, reaching for his glasses and leaping out of bed to crouch next to his friend. The other boy’s breathing was heavy, heat radiating from him like a furnace. The room itself was pitch black, but Richie could see his fearful expression in the glow of the moonlight.  
He reached out and shook Eddie’s shoulder to make sure he wasn’t still asleep. He didn’t anticipate being shoved away, the screeching continuing.  
“What the fuck? _What the fuck_?”  
“Eddie, its me.”  
Reaching forward again, Richie took his cheeks into his hands, forcing his friend to look at him, to forget about whatever it was he was scared of.  
“Its me. Richie. You’re sleeping at my house, remember?”  
Hands scrambled for Richie, Eddie clutching onto his shirt for dear life as he trembled violently in the stillness of the room. What could have scared him so much that he’d forgotten where he was, forgotten who he was with?  
It took a while to calm down, a few pumps of his inhaler and some encouraging words helping him revert back to his own self.  
“What the hell was that about, Eds?” Richie whispered, hands still lingering on his best friend’s shoulder, worried that he’d crumble if it was removed. He couldn’t take seeing him like that again. That was more than any panic attack he’d ever seen.  
“I just- I had a nightmare.”  
His breath was still shaky, voice low enough that Richie could barely hear him. It was no wonder really, with all the screaming.  
“A bad dream? Is that it? Jesus, it sounded like you were being murdered.”  
Eddie flinched, and Richie immediately felt that wave of guilt, knowing he’d gone too far. Lowering his voice again, he patted Eddie’s shoulder in an attempt at a non-verbal apology.  
“What… What was it about?”  
Silence.  
The silence seemed to last for hours, but could only have been a few seconds. Only their breathing quelled the quiet, before Eddie’s voice finally broke out.  
“I don’t wanna be the next missing kid.”  
Fear clutched Richie’s chest then, the air almost knocked right out of him. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the sudden awakening, but those words struck him harder than anything could have. He’d thought about it before, what they’d all do if one of the group went missing, but he hadn’t truly _thought about it_ before. The idea of one of them disappearing, of _Eddie_ disappearing.  
“You won’t be.”  
It was said with such confidence, such determination, that Richie was sure that Eddie wouldn’t feel scared after. If he willed it, it wouldn’t happen. Nothing was going to take Eddie away, not as long as he was around to stop it.  
“I won’t let anything happen to you. None of us will. We’re gonna figure out what’s happened to the missing kids, and-and we’re gonna stop it. Right? Before anything bad happens.”  
If he would have let himself, Richie would have thrown his arms around Eddie, held him close until he’d fallen back asleep. He wanted to whisper again and again that they were safe, all of them, that he’d protect them all until the end.  
He could have told him then. But he didn’t.

He could have told him a couple of months later when they found themselves alone in the clubhouse. Lounging in the hammock, Richie had only wanted to read his comics while waiting for the others to get there, making a point to ignore all the stupid shit Eddie was coming out with. He stared painfully at the pages, feeling beads of sweat prickling on his forehead as he became aware of the other boy looming over him.  
“Hey, asshole, are you even listening to me?”  
“No.” Eyes stayed glued to the pages, feigning the nonchalance that he wished he’d felt. Why did he feel so hot all of a sudden?  
“I was saying that if Beverly comes to visit us over Christmas, Bill had better stop acting like she’s the… the fucking- the Queen, or something. The fucking angel of Christmas miracles. He said we were gonna have fun together, but all he ever talks about is Beverly, Beverly, Beverly…”  
“Jeez, lighten up. You never had a stupid crush on a girl before?”  
Eddie’s shoulders seemed to stiffen, lips pressed together for the first time in what felt like hours. It was like he didn’t know what to say, which sent a thrill through Richie. A slight smirk spread across his lips.  
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything. I’m just saying that everyone’s just fixated on _girls_ and-“  
“Blah blah blah. Get a life, moron. Just because no girls like you, you don’t gotta blame Bill.”  
“Yeah, well… No girls like you either.”  
“Except your mother.”  
“My mom doesn’t even really like you that much. So… there.”  
It was a limp comeback that hung in the air for a few moments, Richie unable to hide the grin that was spreading across his face. Eddie was in the mood to fight, so Richie was gonna give him a fight. He always loved getting him flustered.  
“Why do you care so much about Bill and Beverly anyway? Do _you_ have a crush on her?”  
“What? No! That’s so gross, Richie.”  
“Well, you’re the one that’s getting so upset about it. There’s only one explanation.” A shrug. “You’re in love.”  
“No I’m not!”  
The smirk still didn’t waver, the comic books having been put down in favour of a much better past-time of Richie’s: Annoying the shit out of his best friend. Until Eddie came back with a quip of his own.  
“Well, maybe… maybe _you_ like her. If you’re such an expert on girls and romance and shit, then you must like _someone_.”  
He froze, but didn’t have time to respond before Eddie continued.  
“_Oh, I’m Beverly_.” The voice came out in a weak imitation of their friend, eyes fluttering in a mock-impression of a stereotypical girl. Nothing like Beverly, but still enough to get the point across. “_I love you, Richie. Kiss me, kiss me!_”  
Eddie practically leapt onto the hammock, laughing at the crimson blush falling across Richie’s cheeks. Richie didn’t laugh back, jumping out with a yell as soon as their skin touched. It felt wrong, feeling so embarrassed and awkward. If it had been Stan or Bill or anyone saying it, he could have handled it, but Eddie… There was something about seeing his lips puckered, comically or not, that made his blood boil, the hair on his neck standing on end.  
“Quit it, asshole!”  
“_But Richie-_“  
“I said, _quit it!_”  
As he turned away, hiding the blush on his cheeks, the feel of Eddie grabbing his arm sent him over the edge. He shoved him away, not quite realising how much force he’d put into it until he heard him hit the floor.  
“Eddie-“  
“It was a fucking joke.”  
He scrambled for some words, any words. An apology or an excuse or even just a joke to lighten the mood, but nothing came. Nothing until the rest of the group made their way down the hatch, and the fight had been forgotten.  
He could have told him then, but he didn’t.

He could have told him a couple of years later, when they were all together at Ben’s house for a sleepover. As with every teenage sleepover, there came the obligatory sleepover games, including Truth or Dare. Richie had successfully managed to avoid any real hazards by continuously picking dare. Some of the dares had been funny, some disgusting, and some just plain boring.  
“Come on, Ben. You call that a dare? Dare me to… run outside naked, or make out with your sister or something.”  
“Yeah, nobody wants to see you naked, Richie,” Stan interjected, raising a brow at Richie indignance. Still, it was a pretty stupid dare.  
A staring contest. _Choose someone in the group and have a staring contest_. First one to blink loses with no forfeit. Richie felt like he was playing with a bunch of five-year-olds with no sense of humor.  
“Who are you gonna choose then?” Mike asked, eyeing up each person in turn.  
“I’ll do it,” Eddie offered, glancing at Richie with a smirk. “I’ve never lost a staring contest. It’s a gift.”  
“Yeah, but if I stare at your ugly face long enough, I might puke. So its not really fair, right?”  
“Fuck you.”  
“Guys!” Beverly’s voice cut through their bickering before they launched into a full-scale argument. “Stop acting like an old married couple, and just do the dare.”  
Richie had to fight to stop his face burning, about to quip in with a remark about Eddie being the Mrs in the marriage, yet Eddie managed to get there first.  
“Yeah, like I’d ever marry _him_.”  
In his mind, Richie always knew that Eddie would never think anything of him except as that annoying best friend. Being friends was better than nothing, and deep down he knew that they would always stay that way. Nothing more. Yet hearing the disdain in Eddie’s voice at the _thought_ of being married to him, the disgusting idea of being close to Richie in the way that he wished… It hurt more than he could possibly say.  
Eddie’s glare didn’t leave Beverly, his cheeks burning bright red as he seemed to avoid Richie’s gaze. “I have _standards_, Beverly. Stop being gross.”  
_Gross_.  
Trying to hide his trembling voice, the pure shame that pulsated through his body, Richie forced himself to look away from Eddie, to look at Beverly too.  
“Yeah. Ew.”  
He could have told him… No, he couldn’t. Not with everyone staring. Not after what Eddie had just said.

He could have told him a couple of years after that, on prom night. Eighteen years old and still as close as ever, the Losers Club had decided that they were going to go to prom as a group. No girls, except Beverly, who was joining them as Bill’s honorary date. Even Mike had managed to get an invite, pretending to be the date of a girl in their class. Yet, a week before prom, Eddie had dropped a bombshell.  
“Wait, you asked _who_ to prom?”  
Their faces had fallen, mouths gaping at the news. Eddie Kaspbrak was really taking someone to prom, a girl that he had asked himself. Talk about going out of your comfort zone. Richie had wondered how he didn’t have an asthma attack while doing it.  
“You’re going with a girl? Like an actual, human girl?”  
“Yes, Richie. An actual, human girl.”  
“_Why_? And she said _yes_? Really?”  
“Yeah. She said yes, alright? It beats going to prom alone.”  
That felt like a personal stab, but Richie didn’t have the heart to care too much about it. He was going alone because there wasn’t anyone he wanted to go with. Well, that wasn’t _strictly_ true, but it wasn’t like he was just gonna ask his best friend to be his date.  
“Well, I was gonna ask your mom, but I don’t think they make prom dresses in her size.”  
“Hey, fuck you.”  
_Yeah, fuck me, right?_  
He didn’t tell him then. He didn’t tell him on prom night, when Eddie ditched his date to dance with the Losers to ‘Come on Eileen’, all of them laughing and screaming the words as the lights above seemed to blur into one. He didn’t tell him later on when he caught Eddie kissing his date outside the school gates, the nausea rising in him as he felt a pang of jealousy that wouldn’t go away until after he left for college.  
He didn’t tell him when they said goodbye that summer, promising to visit each other at college at least once a semester. He didn’t call him or write to him or anything. Richie made new friends, forgetting all about his old ones. Time went on, his new friends bailed, and there was always that missing piece that he couldn’t quite figure out. It pained him even now to think that he’d forgotten Eddie, forgotten his wicked grin and stupid jokes and that sparkle in his eye whenever he got excited. But that wasn’t the point anymore.  
The point was that he was gone. Richie had seen him die and didn’t save him, didn’t protect him like he’d promised to all those years ago. Why didn’t he grab him before It got to him? He could have pulled him away, held him close and not let go. But he didn’t. It was what he saw whenever he closed his eyes. Eddie, ashen and afraid, your name murmured from his lips as blood spurted from them like a crimson fountain.  
What do you do when your deepest fear comes true? What do you do when that fear taunts you every second of every day?  
Eddie might have died that night, but guilt that plagued Richie in the times that followed killed him a little more every day.  
He could have told him. He could have protected him. But he didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is a little rushed, so I'm tempted to re-do it better in the future. Or maybe from Eddie's POV. Idk. Enjoy!


End file.
